


The Fear of Promise

by pleasesayitsnotso



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Crying, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Fear, Guilt, Insomnia, Love, Nightmares, Panic, Self-Hatred, Shame, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 20:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4032820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasesayitsnotso/pseuds/pleasesayitsnotso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during Episode 12 'The Ones We Leave Behind': Karen has taken solace at work in the presence of Matt, and despite her recent inability to sleep she manages to drop off. As usual her slumber is far from peaceful, and her current distress over her recent traumatic experiences capture Matt's attention, and concerns him greatly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fear of Promise

_“The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.”  
― J.R.R. Tolkien_

* * *

 

   She was tired, so very tired and it wasn’t even just the lack of sleep anymore, it was well... everything. She couldn’t stand the distance and hostility that so obviously remained between Matt and Foggy, her emotions felt drained over the grief and pure anguish Fisk had inflicted on her , through his brutal and malevolent attacks on those she cared for and others. Worst of all though was the manner in which she had allowed this fatigue to consume and devour her in the worst way possible, in a way that had somehow removed part of her and replaced it with this person she didn’t know, didn’t recognise. She had shot him. Several times, and she had killed him... murdered him, and now she was tired in every sense of the word. Although she tried earnestly to sleep she couldn’t, her mind plagued by the way his body jolted in jerky and sudden motions, as the bullets pierced his chest coaxing ribbons of red to seep through his stark white shirt. The art of a murdered mans demise painted across his chest in varying different sized spheres of crimson, as she felt the steely severe cool metal beneath her trembling hands. As much as her body and mind yearned for rest, somehow simultaneously her soul reached through the thick blankets of exhaustion telling her to stay awake, to hold on to that fear that someone would find out , that in the end she would be discovered to be the liar and killer she so knew she was.

   When sleep did find her it always brought with it the antagonising and terrifying nightmares that caused every cell in her body to thrum with fear, to vibrate against its physical containment in a desperate bid to rip away from her, to remove itself from the source of such poison. If only she could do so.

   Her inability to rest had led her back to work and where she sat at her desk, finding herself bizarrely amused by the fact she considered her place of work to be a beacon of safety, and a place she would much rather be than at home. If anything it showed how messed up she was, for most people work was the last place on earth they would want to be right now, especially at this ridiculous hour in the morning. For her though it was... home, it encompassed the two people she treasured most right now, and represented the hope, kindness and friendship that they had willingly and generously graced her with. Right now one of those people was sat in his office, Matt had arrived and had continued working on the legal and lawful way of revealing Fisk as the severely depraved man he truly was. Karen too tried to commit and hone her attention long enough on a number of documents Foggy had procured from Landman & Zack, which could contain critical evidence against the man in question. Somehow during this attempt of constructive work and action, her eyes had drifted shut and yet again her body’s desire for sleep had managed to dispel the apprehension that had forced her awake for so long.

   She awoke back in the office, however for some unknown reason all the lights in the room were off, plunging the small and slightly stale room into a state of complete darkness which hung heavily with the weight of discomfort. She could feel her heart start to pound within her chest, hard and persistent slamming over and over again inside her at an ever increasing speed, despite the fact she adamantly told herself that she had nothing to fear. Nothing at all. Her panic however had already started to gnaw away at her will to stay composed, and before long her voice broke through the stark silence, raw, weak and strained,

“Matt?”  She could hear her breath now, laboured and desperate clawing and scrabbling among the shadows for some sense of calm and safety. Her vocal enquiry found no answer and so the panic that had already latched on to her heart and lungs, continued to spread viciously throughout her body. Her crystal blue eyes swam around in the ocean of black, trying to discern whether Matt was still present, however amidst the swarm of alarm that now had oppressed her mind she struggled to think rationally or at all for that matter. It was as if a thousand different voices were trying to talk to her all at once, but she couldn’t focus on just one. She couldn’t focus on any she just had to stand there and allow the wall of noise to envelope her in a suffocating tomb of anxiety. At that moment her eyes managed to seek out the silhouette of an individual who walked towards her, he was large, stocky and held an intimidating presence that in no way aided her current state. Abruptly the light on her desk lit up revealing the figure to be none other than Wilson Fisk himself, his expression held no emotion at all but conveyed the stern, dominant and ruthless aura he always emanated. She wanted to move, she so wished she could run, yell or scream but she couldn’t. Her mind commanded her to get out but her body had become overwhelmed by so many emotions and thoughts that it refused to compute, struck still by its own complex and multiple responses. He placed both of his large hands on the edge of her desk as he leant forward, the light from her lamp illuminating certain areas of his face and casting others into shadows, in a manner that made him look disjointed and inhumane. His voice was just as commanding and imposing as his presence was, as he spoke to her his tone coarse and deep,

“You killed him Miss Page and you invaded my life, my mother’s life, you made this personal and for that you must pay.” He now stood up straight, however in the glow of the lamp she could make out a muscle in his cheek twitching, contracting under the pressure of his growing rage as he prepared to unleash all the animosity he held for her, for what she did. Karen closed her eyes preparing for the first blow, every muscle in her body was taut, straining against the ligaments that tethered them to her bones as terror and despair thrummed throughout her body, inducing her to shake ever so slightly. The blow did not arrive, and despite the fear of what she would see if she opened her eyes she did so anyway. The tension she had held released immediately as her eyes fell upon the two figures of Foggy and Matt, and initially her heart warmed as relief flooded her entirely, that was until she set her gaze upon Foggy’s features. He looked drawn and broken, his skin seemed paler and his eyes lacked the playful sparkle that brought with it the ever promising presence of wit, and he was looking right at her. She made him look like this, what she had done, who she had become had now not only corrupted her but now those she loved and treasured. She had long ago admitted to herself she was the embodiment of destruction but she had always ensured it was only to herself. Now it had spread, and she hated herself for it. She forced herself to say his name, inducing her to wince at the way her voice sounded, so scared, so beaten and frail,

“Foggy...” He steps towards the desk, the false glare of the lamp highlighting his appearance of despair and disappointment further, before he slams his fist forcefully into the surface of the desk. The loud bang pierced through the dismal ambience of the room and in turn caused her to jump, as he spoke out he sounded worn, angry and disgruntled all at once,

“No Karen... you, you lied to me, you became the person you told us you weren’t... you killed someone...” He lowers his head and she already anticipated the tears that trickled slowly down his cheeks, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt her any less. Before she knows it herself, tears are pooling in her eyes and as soon as she blinks they too fall, cascading over the contours of her face seeking solace away from its source, away from the bane of its existence. Despite his face being averted from her gaze, she can see the way his shoulders jolt ever so slightly forcing out the tears of anguish that throttled him gleefully. She can’t take it anymore, and so she fights against the tightness in her throat prompted and coerced by her tears, and gasps out to him desperately,

“Foggy please... I’m sorry, I need you Foggy... I need your help...” He looks up at her, rings of red framing his eyes in manner that looks so painful she can barely look at him. His jaw clenches and all his features harden as he sternly replies,

“No.” Turning around he walks away, his body consumed by the rasping tendrils of the dark as she swiftly moves to stand, to run after him her voice screaming out for him, resounding out into the vast emptiness. Her cries grate against her throat scratching viciously in a manner that coerces even more tears to fall, as her wails echo back to her,

“FOGGY COME BACK... PLEASE... PLEASE FOGGY...” She tries to move forward to follow him but finds herself held back, her arms are wrenched behind and with the desperate terror that now feasts lavishly on her, she flings her head side to side to observe what is restraining her. Chains have appeared out from the wall, attached to them are solid iron cuffs that are clamped firmly around both of her wrists, forcing her to remain at her desk and preventing her from reaching out to... anyone. She slumps back in her chair, her raspy sobs wracking her whole body in a way that brings with it a draining exhaustion, sapping every inch of energy and fight she has left. Before she allows herself to be consumed by her sorrow, guilt and shame she hears the resounding clack of footsteps, and she remembers. **Matt**. Ignited by the hope of his presence, his help, she manages to muster enough strength to tilt her head up; through her tear swamped eyes she identifies his sturdy figure,

“Matt... please...” She can barely speak now, among the persistent sobs and the damage caused by her screams for Foggy, it is a huge endeavour to talk. He doesn’t move an inch, and behind his glasses she cannot tell where his attention now lies, but she waits because that’s all she can do now, wait for his verdict. She clings frantically to the tendrils of hope sewn by his past judgement on her, the way he had cared for her and obstinately declared his promise to keep her safe and to protect her from harm.... but maybe she’s done too much now. Finally he speaks, but his tone is flat and lacks the genial warmth that somehow emanates from the soft rumble of his attractive voice, his lips are absent of their endearing smile,

“I can’t save you from this Karen...” Her desire for his comfort and his refusal to offer any prompts her to lurch forward, her fingernails clawing and scratching at the desk that separates her from him, as she continues to weep,

“Matt...” With his last words he tells her the one thing that perhaps inflicts the most damage of all, a reality of which she has feared most since the shooting of that man,

“... I won’t.” At that he turns and walks away, he too returns back into the darkness leaving behind a distraught and broken woman murmuring, whispering and occasionally howling,

“NO MATT... please, PLEASE don’t leave me... please Matt... I’m sorry... MATT!”

* * *

   Matt sat in his office his fingers trailing over the braille documents he now so adamantly combed through, trying in earnest to glean any information that could help bring Fisk down, bring justice to all those he had damaged and murdered. Karen buried deeply the damage she had incurred, but for him it was so plain to see that it pained him every day, and recently he had noticed it had gotten worse. He could sense the tension and apprehension she always held in her posture, and the way she flinched when she heard sudden noises or someone appeared suddenly behind her without her noticing. Her breathing was laboured and her movement was sluggish, indicating to him that she was struggling to sleep, her mind clearly preoccupied with the trauma she had experienced... all because of Fisk. Additionally he could smell the pungent aroma of alcohol that clung to her skin, a coping mechanism of sorts, and a smell he was hit with immediately that evening when he entered the office. Despite this half an hour ago he had identified that Karen had fallen asleep, her breathing had evened out and her movement had reduced to minimal levels, and despite the concern he held for her he was glad she was finally getting some rest, she needed it.

   A large frustrated sigh escaped from his lips as he combed his fingers through his hair, leaning back in his seat he took a moment to just recollect himself, after concentrating on the documents he had been studying. It was then he heard Karen, her heart beat was pounding hard and in accordance her breaths became frantic and strenuous, grasping out into the still air but her movement was still minimal indicating she was still in some state of rest. Standing up he made his way towards the door, greatly concerned for her well being, it was then he distinctly heard within her rasping and agitated breathes, hushed, moaned and whimpered words that struck him sharply,

“... please... don’t leave me... please Matt... I’m sorry...” At that he swiftly strode into the room, placing himself right by her side, where he reached out to her with one hand placed lightly on her back and the other on one of her arms. He could feel her complete and utter terror cascading into him in waves of crippling and destructive fear, that in all honesty absolutely petrified him too... and **she had said his name**. As his hands lightly tried to shake her from her slumber, he gently cooed to her,

“Karen, wake up... I’m here.” He could feel her body trembling under his touch, his senses allowing him to ascertain that her head was also shaking side to side in a progressively erratic manner. Matt was not someone who succumbed to panic, however he could feel that slight tightness and muscular tension of apprehension start to clinch his gut. It was then that she yelled out, her body convulsing aggressively beneath his caring and attentive touch,

“... MATT!” Her voice resounded out, the agony of her pain and anguish shunting into the walls with full force, and therefore awakening her from her nightmare. As she started up right in her chair, she took a large intake of breathe, her body yearning for oxygen and trying in earnest to resume composure, whilst her eyes widened in a show of alarm. Her hand lashed out grasping hold of Matt’s wrist, on the hand that was placed on her arm. Her gip was like a vice and her nails dug ever so slightly into his skin, the pressure she applied sure to leave a mark of some kind, but he didn’t care. Hurriedly he crouched down to her, his hands still placed on her and moving in soothing circles, as he tried to calm her,

“Karen I’m here okay? You’re alright, you’re okay.” With his endearing words of comfort she turned her head slowly towards him, her body still trembling with the remnants of her nightmare... of her fear. Her eyes flitted over his face, devouring his presence but also unsure if he was there, was he really right here, right in front of her and actually concerned? In the air Matt could taste the distinctive traces of salt and potassium... she had been crying and no doubt she still was, removing his hand from her back he gently brushed his thumb over her cheek, feeling the wet tear tracks that had marked her so. The caring and compassionate touch of his hand, indicated to her all she needed to know, as a relieved but broken smile came across her face. Matt felt the tension that had still lingered within her body recede almost instantaneously, and he too felt reprieve at the understanding that she now felt secure in the knowledge of his company. She released a wavering exhale, exclaiming simultaneously in complete and utter relief,

“Matt.” Her arms wrapped around his neck, as she pressed her body against him desperate to ensure that he was present, that he was real as she continued to tremble within his arms that encircled tightly around her petite waist. Her face nuzzled into the crook of Matt’s neck, her breathe ghosting over his skin in a manner that wasn’t all unpleasant, and in that moment Matt spoke to her, one of his hands gliding up and down her back,

“Karen, are you okay?” The concern he held for her amalgamated in those few words, dripping with empathy and a need to be informed of her state of well being. He felt beneath his finger tips her body tighten and her figure remain rigid, as she clearly realised she had thrown herself into the arms of her boss, without any thought of how he would perceive it. God she really was a massive idiotic mess. Withdrawing herself swiftly from his arms, she busied herself tending to her tear strewn face and dishevelled blonde locks, whilst she attempted to reply in a manner that was somewhat convincing,

“I’ll be fine, thanks Matt... sorry for interrupting you.” It then dawned on her that she must have yelled out during her nightmare, alerting Matt to her distress and leading him to abandon his work, it panicked her slightly to think she may have said his name. Her eyes shifted away from his as she tried to maintain the composure she had only just managed to regain, as she continued to shuffle persistently in an effort to appear untroubled. Despite this Matt knew better, and reaching out for her hand he intertwined their fingers, the roughness of his calloused hand against her smooth palm sent tantalising tingles all along her skin in a response of pure attraction. Her eyes focused adamantly on their hands refusing to believe the actuality of its happening, the way it felt so right, the way her hand fit so perfectly in his in a manner she had never encountered before. Her reverie was interrupted by his genteel tone of voice,

“Don’t apologise for that, just know that if you ever want to talk to me about anything you can.” His dark enchanting eyes reflected back to her the vision of her gaunt, lifeless and pale expression and she realised all of a sudden the pathetic aura she was now exuding. She may have been through a rough time recently but she was alive, and that was a lot more than some other people who had come up against Fisk, good people who did not deserve the fate they received. With that thought she reluctantly but with purpose withdrew her hand from Matt’s, as she smoothed her hands through her hair, pulling it all back behind her shoulders and allowing it to cascade down her back.

   Despite her adamant will to cope with the trauma she had incurred on her own, Matt wished that she would let someone... anyone share her burden, share her fear and pain. But then he knew all too well the desire to not taint those you care for with your problems, to keep them removed from the demons that you possess. However this was Karen, not him, and she did not deserve to suffer alone, he couldn’t and wouldn’t allow it. But until she confided in him, Foggy, or anyone or that matter he would do his best to keep her safe, to protect her. **He would always keep his promise.**


End file.
